CHAPTER 3
KRISTIN SAT WITH Gaute on her lap and stared into the distance from the hill north of the manor. It was such a lovely evening. Below, the lake lay glistening and still, reflecting the mountain ridges, the buildings of By, and the golden clouds in the sky. The strong smell of leaves and earth rose up after the rainfall earlier in the day. The grass in the meadows must be knee-deep by now, and the fields were covered with spears of grain.
Sounds traveled a long way on such an evening. Now the pipes and drums and fiddles began playing down on the green near Vinjar; they sounded so splendid up on the hill.
The cuckoo fell silent for long periods, but then it would cry out a few notes, far away in the woods to the south. And birds whistled and warbled in all the groves around the farm—but sporadic and quiet, because the sun was still high.
The livestock were bellowing and their bells were ringing as they returned home from the pasture across from the farmyard gate.
“Now Gaute will soon have his milk,” she cooed to the infant, lifting him up. The boy lay as he usually did, with his heavy head resting on his mother’s shoulder. Now and then he would press closer, and Kristin took this as a sign that he understood her endearing words and chatter.
She walked down toward the buildings. Outside the main hall Naakkve and Bj?rgulf were leaping around, trying to entice a cat down from the roof where it had taken refuge. Then the boys took up the broken dagger which belonged to both of them and went back to digging a hole in the earthen floor of the entryway.
Dagrun came into the hall carrying a basin of goat milk, and Kristin let Gaute drink ladle after ladle of the warm liquid. The boy grunted crossly when the servant woman spoke to him; when she tried to take him away, he struck out at her and hid his face on his mother’s breast.
“But it seems to me that he’s getting better,” said the milkmaid.
Kristin cupped the little face in her hand; it was yellowish-white, like tallow, and his eyes were always tired. Gaute had a big, heavy head and thin, frail limbs. He had turned two years old on the eighth day after Saint Lavrans’s Day, but he still couldn’t stand on his own, he had only five teeth, and he couldn’t speak a word.
Sira Eiliv said that it wasn’t rickets; and neither the alb nor the altar books had helped. Everywhere the priest went he would ask advice about this illness that had overtaken Gaute. Kristin knew that he mentioned the child in all his prayers. But to her he could only say that she must patiently submit to God’s will. And she should let him have warm goat milk.
Her poor little boy. Kristin hugged him and kissed him after the woman had left. How handsome, how handsome he was. She thought she could see that he took after her father’s family—his eyes were dark gray and his hair as pale as flax, thick and silky soft.
Now he began to whimper again. Kristin stood up and paced the floor as she held him. Small and weak though he was, he still grew heavy after a while. But Gaute refused to leave his mother’s arms. So she walked back and forth in the dim hall, carrying the boy and lulling him to sleep.
Someone rode into the courtyard. Ulf Haldorss?n’s voice echoed between the buildings. Kristin went over to the entryway door with the child in her arms.
“You’ll have to unsaddle your own horse tonight, Ulf. All the men have gone off to the dance. It’s a shame you should have to be troubled with this, but I’m afraid it can’t be helped.”
Ulf muttered with annoyance, but he unsaddled the horse. Naakkve and Bj?rgulf swarmed around him and wanted to ride the horse over in the pasture.
“No, Naakkve, you must stay with Gaute—play with your brother so he doesn’t cry while I’m in the cookhouse,” said Kristin.
The boy frowned unhappily. But then he got down on all fours, roaring and butting at his little brother whom Kristin had put down on a cushion near the entryway door. She bent down and stroked Naakkve’s hair. He was so good to his younger brothers.
When Kristin came back to the hall holding the big trencher in her hands, Ulf Haldorss?n was sitting on the bench, playing with the children. Gaute liked to be with Ulf as long as he didn’t see his mother—but now he began crying at once and reached out for her. Kristin put down the trencher and picked Gaute up.
Ulf blew on the foam of the newly tapped ale, took a swallow, and then began taking food from the small bowls on the trencher.
“Are all of your maidservants out tonight?”
Kristin said, “There are fiddles and drums and pipes—a group of musicians arrived from Orkedal after the wedding. And you know that as soon as they heard about them . . . They’re young girls, after all.”